


Resolute

by polkadotPotter



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Barry Allen Works For The SCPD, Bisexual Oliver Queen, F/M, Gay Barry Allen, M/M, Season 2, Slow Burn, for now, more tags added as they become relevant, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-07 17:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21462094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polkadotPotter/pseuds/polkadotPotter
Summary: In which Barry Allen moves to Starling City after the undertaking to chase the Green Arrow in hopes that the vigilante could help him find his mother's true killer.It's safe to say that he got more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Barry Allen & Quentin Lance, Barry Allen/Oliver Queen, Eddie Thawne/Iris West, Roy Harper/Thea Queen
Comments: 23
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

When Barry Allen first saw Oliver Queen, it was at a crime scene, which was really only fitting. 

He hadn't been in Starling City long, only a few weeks by then, but already Barry had seen no small amount of bodies. And he could only blame himself, really, for the influx of work, because he'd been the one who'd seen news of the undertaking on the television and subsequently applied for the position of CSI at the SCPD. Iris had not been happy, and Joe had been even less so- Captain Singh had even begrudgingly admitted to the fact that maybe he would miss him once he left. But Barry got the job, and he was pulled into the city on a train a mere two weeks after the earthquake that wasn't an earthquake, and he was abruptly hit by crime here and crime there and more crime, crime, crime. Because hey, _no shit_ people didn't react well to a plot by the rich to cleanse a declining city of those below the poverty line. 

That much was evident, Barry thought, by the way he was now knelt next to the cooling body of the mayor- _former_ mayor now, he supposed. 

"Well?" asked a voice, and Barry glanced up to see Lieutenant Pike gazing down at the mayor as well, a sort of combination of pity and sorrow and uneasy disgust in his eyes. Barry looked back down at the body, because somehow it was easier.

"The gunmen didn't approach the body after the kill," Barry announced, slipping easily into his work mind. "From what I've heard from the witnesses, they didn't attempt a negotiation either- they came in, caused a panic, humiliated the mayor and then shot him. This was a hit, but they wanted it to be as noisy as possible, probably to send some sort of message."

Pike glared down at the room below them, shaken civilians wrapped in blankets or clutching loved ones mumbling their sides of the story to throngs of officers. The fear lingering in the room was almost tangible. "I think we can safely say that message was sent," he observed, and Barry nodded solemnly. 

"What I don't understand is why," he said, and it was more him thinking aloud than anything else. "Up until now, the hoods were just a group of robin hoods- not to say they weren't dangerous, but this seems too far out of their pay-grade. So what changed?"

"I don't know," Pike grunted, crossing his arms in a clear showing of his displeasure at not knowing. Then, he said, "Aw, shit. What's Lance doing here?"

Barry perked up at the mention of the other officer- he knew Lance well, if only by word of mouth. Quentin Lance was the former detective, now just an officer, demoted as retribution for his affiliation with Starling City's own vigilante. Who, coincidentally, had not been seen since the undertaking- and that was disappointing, because the presence of the vigilante had been a deciding factor in Barry's move. 

"He shouldn't be here," Pike grumbled to himself, then looked at Barry. "That girl he's talking to, Laurel- his daughter. Took down one of the hoods when he tried to shoot her boss. Hell of a right hook, I've heard." 

"She might have come into contact with something we could use," Barry suggested, standing up when he noticed Pike beginning to move toward the pair. He followed Pike down the stairs to the ground floor as the older man set his angry eyes on Lance. "DNA isn't likely, because eyewitnesses said the hoods were completely covered except for the eyes- but even just a thread of fabric... it could give us something."

"You work on that angle then," Pike said, "and I'll work on mine." Then he raised his voice, calling over to the former detective. "What do you think you're doing? Interviewing the witness is the job of the detective, Officer Lance." Barry tried not to flinch at the harsh tone his boss was using, awkwardly trailing after Pike and coming to a stop in front of Lance and his daughter. 

"This is my daughter," Lance said, almost breathlessly, like he couldn't believe he was having to explain himself. Barry supposed it was because he wasn't used to having to do so, until recently. "She was almost killed tonight."

"Well as a parent you're welcome to stay," Pike huffed. "But as a beat cop, you are more than welcome to go." Lance tensed, and Barry watched his jaw working like he was trying very hard to hold back a quip of his own. 

Instead, however, a question came. "Who's this?" Lance asked, gesturing at Barry.

"Oh, uh, I'm Barry Allen?" Barry said, though it came out like more of a suggestion than a fact. "Um, I'm the new CSI." Then, in a brief moment of panic, he added, "Crime scene investigator." Then, in a moment of panic and regret, he said, "You already knew what that meant. Sorry."

Lance gave him a wry smile. "Charming." 

Barry grimaced awkwardly, before remembering his point. "Um, your daughter came into contact with one of the hoods," he explained. "I was hoping I could examine her- I mean, her clothing- I mean, oh god-" Barry stopped himself, cowering under Lance's scrutinizing gaze. "There may be residual pieces of fabric on her person, as a result of her contact with the- the criminal. If there were, they might be able to tell us something about who did this." 

Laurel looked at Barry, skeptical but amused, and then at her father, who nodded her along. Sometime during Barry's endeavor to embarrass himself, Pike had wandered off to presumably scold another 'beat cop'. "So how is this going to work, then?" 

Barry nervously cleared his throat, glancing back and forth between Laurel and her father. "Well, I'm uh... going to need to examine the fabric," he said, and Lance raised an eyebrow. "You don't have to be wearing it obviously-" Barry flushed a dark red, "I _mean_ you can- you can change into a different set of clothes and then just give me the dress and I'll examine it while it's not being worn."

"You've got quite the way with words, Allen," Officer Lance told him, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Barry gulped, but Laurel softly placed a hand on her father's forearm to calm him.

"He's doing his job, dad. Surely you can understand that." Lance didn't look like he agreed too strongly, but he seceded, taking a small step backward as he relaxed. 

"Sorry," Barry apologized anyway, his voice sounding small and awkward to his own ears. 

"No worries, really," Laurel assured him. She turned to her father. "I brought a spare outfit with me, it's in my car."

"I'll get it for you," Lance offered, and Lauren dug out her keys to give to him. He left to go to Laurel's car, and Barry was left alone with his daughter.

There was a silence that stretched for a few moments, before Laurel bravely decided to break it. "So are you new in town, then?"

Barry blinked at her. "Oh, um, yeah, I am," he told her, offering a shaky smile. "I moved here a few weeks ago, actually."

Laurel raised an eyebrow. "Starling City isn't exactly the most attractive place for real estate at the moment."

Barry just shrugged. "There was an open position."

"I know," Laurel said, a slight grimace taking over her face. Barry was well aware that the reason there had even been a CSI opening as the SCPD was because the previous one had been killed in the undertaking. Oh shit, had he struck a chord?

"I'm sorry, did you know him? The guy before me?" 

"Not well," Laurel shook her head. "We talked a few times when I was at the station, waiting to talk to my dad. He was nice. He didn't deserve to die."

"Did any of them?" Barry asked, and Laurel looked at him with the kind of sorrow in her eyes that only came from death. Maybe she hadn't been too familiar with his predecessor, but that look in her eye suggested that she'd lost someone real to her in the undertaking. Barry gallantly decided not to press further on the subject.

Suddenly, Laurel's attention seemed to divert to something across the room, and Barry turned with her gaze to notice someone approaching them. Barry blinked at the stranger- was that _Oliver Queen_?

As the man came to a stop in front of them, all Barry could do was stare, because he really didn't know what to say. "I didn't know you were back in town," Laurel said in lieu of a greeting, and Oliver looked back at her like he was seeing something precious for the first time. 

"I just got back a little while ago," Oliver explained, "and I was going to call, but then I saw you on TV and so I thought that I would come and make sure you were okay." Laurel returned the sentiment with a soft smile before Oliver turned his body in Barry's direction. "Who's this?"

"This is Barry Allen," Laurel introduced him, and Barry was pleasantly surprised that she had remembered his name. "He's the new CSI at the department."

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Is he?" he mused, and Barry felt the distinct feeling that he was preventing a real reunion from happening. 

"I'll just... go over there," Barry offered, jerking his thumb in no direction in particular. "Just, get me that dress before you leave, please." Laurel nodded, and Barry spun on his heel, ignoring the odd look Oliver was giving him. 

Barry pursed his lips, sighing heavily. He just had to put his foot in his mouth, didn't he?

* * * * *

"Now _this_ is evidence," Barry exclaimed, eyes widening at the baggy in front of him. Following a second attack at Queen Consolidated, the hoods had paid a visit to Verdant, the nightclub owned by Oliver Queen, and kidnapped his sister. Fortunately for Barry, and the victim, during the fight a glove containing half a prosthetic hand had fallen off of one of the gunmen. Meaning, "This is going to have DNA on it," he explained to Pike, eyes wide with excitement. "If whoever's missing their hand is in our system, we'll know who it is soon enough."

"Good," Pike said, and the way he crossed his arms didn't seem nearly as ornery as it usually did. "Let me know if you get a match."

"I will," Barry said, watching as Pike turned and left his office. 

Barry got to work, swabbing and dusting and examining the glove until he knew every inch of it. It didn't take long before he was jumping up, a grin taking over his face as he raced down to the lobby, nearly running right into Officer Lance. "Hey, kid, watch where you're going," Lance warned him, brushing his front off like Barry had spilled something on him. He hadn't. 

"Oh, shoot- sorry about that, sir," Barry apologized, eyes wide, as he took a giant step back. "Sorry, I was just- I was excited."

Lance frowned. "What's there to be excited about these days, Allen?"

That wickedly excited grin came back. "I managed to get a print off the glove from one of the hoods," he exclaimed. "I ran it through the system, and we got a match."

"That's great news," came Pike's voice, and Barry stiffened ever so slightly. "So how come you're telling beat cop over here first instead of me?"

Barry grimaced, watching Lance tense up and do the same. "He asked," was Barry's nonchalant answer, paired with a shrug. "I was on my way to tell you anyway."

Pike narrowed his eyes, but didn't press any further. "Well next time, don't get distracted. Who is he?"

"Jeff Deveau," Barry announced. "Ex-marine, which probably explains how the hoods were able to get such high grade machinery."

"Good work, Allen," Pike praised him, and Barry suppressed a smile at that. "What else?"

"I've got motivation," Barry added. "I found an article- his wife died during the undertaking, when the 52nd street bridge collapsed. That's when he lost his hand." Pike nodded, and he seemed to have forgotten that Lance was still there listening. Barry kept going. "I was thinking then, the fact that he'd lost someone in the undertaking, that couldn't be a coincidence. The group of them are going after the Queen's now, probably because of their mother's involvement in the whole thing. And I doubt that just anybody would follow a guy who's asking them to sign up for murder. I'm willing to bet my last dollar that all these guys lost someone in the earthquake."

"A lot of people lost someone in that quake, Allen," Pike said, raising an eyebrow. "That hardly narrows it down."

"No," Barry said, determination set on his face. "But it's a start."

* * * * *

As it turned out, Barry's evidence gathering hadn't been needed in the long run. Despite that, Barry could hardly find it in himself to be disappointed. 

Because the vigilante was back.

The vigilante had showed up, the vigilante had saved Thea Queen. And almost more miraculous than the sudden return of the hooded man, was his sudden change of heart. Every one of the hoods were alive when they were found by Officer Lance. 

Barry felt his heart swell as he stood at the coffee machine, waiting for his cup to fill. Not only was the vigilante back, but he was better now, he was good. Not that he hadn't been good before, Barry thought, but now he was showing his humanness. 

"Mind if I grab a cup?" a voice asked, and Barry looked up to see Oliver Queen standing at his side, his gaze fixed on the coffee machine.

Barry blinked, taken aback for a moment, before he gathered himself and stepped away. "Yeah, of course," he said, pulling his up toward him. He paused as Oliver grabbed a cup, lined it up with the dispenser, like maybe he wanted to say something. "Um. We met the other night, at the- well, the crime scene. Barry Allen?"

Oliver turned slightly, looked at him like he didn't quite know where this was going. "I remember."

"Oh," Barry said, not having expected that. "Well, uh, I just- I wanted to say, I'm glad your sister is okay." 

"Thank you," Oliver said, polite and professional. There was a silence, and Barry almost took it as his cue to leave, before Oliver continued. "You know, out of everyone that's spoken to me tonight about my sister's return, I think you're the first one to say you're glad about it."

Barry paused, not quite sure how to respond to that. He settled for flashing a soft, reassuring smile toward the man. "I'm sure I'm not the only one thinking it."

"No, I'm sure," Oliver agreed. "But it's nice to hear it." Barry nodded, bringing his coffee up to his face to blow on it. He was standing awkwardly in the kitchenette of the police station, stuck between a microwave and a coffee maker and Oliver Queen. 

"Of course, yeah," Barry said. 

"Mhm," Oliver said distractedly, removing his own coffee cup from the machine. "I hear you found the fingerprint that ID'd one of the men that took my sister."

Barry flushed a light pink, ducking his head away to avoid Oliver noticing. "I mean. Yeah, but I guess in the end it doesn't matter. The vigilante's the one who ended up catching them anyway, right?"

"He did," Oliver hummed. "But if he hadn't, I'm glad to know that there would have still been hope for my sister."

Barry didn't know what to do, so he just nodded. "I think it would've taken much longer my way," he muttered. "So I guess, good thing the vigilante _did_ get there first."

Oliver quirked an eyebrow, and Barry felt the tiniest bit scrutinized. "You almost sound like you believe in him."

"Maybe I do," Barry admitted, looking at the ground. Maybe it was because Oliver's sister had just been rescued by said vigilante, but he didn't think the man would condemn him for supporting someone the rest of the city seemed to hate.

Apparently, Oliver was thinking the same thing. "Not many people seem to share that sentiment these days."

"No, they don't," Barry said. 

"Why do you, then?" Oliver pressed. "If you don't mind me asking."

Barry shifted his weight from one foot to the other, offering a slight shrug. "I don't know," he said, and it was half truth, half lie. "I just can't help thinking about how the vigilante didn't kill those hoods tonight. He had the chance too, I mean- why the sudden change in M.O.?" Barry paused, moving to set down his coffee cup as he moved a step closer to Oliver. "The vigilante disappeared for nearly a month after the earthquake, and when he returns he seemingly refuses to kill, even when he could- would have, even, if it were a few months ago." Barry shrugged again. "I don't know. Maybe I'm jumping to conclusions, maybe I'm just too damn desperate to find the good in everyone, but... I just can't get it out of my head that maybe, maybe the vigilante lost someone that night too. Someone that made him want to be better." Barry finished with a strong air of finality, and it took a few moments of tense silence for him to risk a glance at Oliver. 

The older man was wearing a pained expression, one that he quickly tried to school into something more passive when he noticed Barry looking at him. He cleared his throat. "You seem to have put a lot of thought into this."

Barry could tell, somehow, that Oliver was less friendly and more hesitant now in his words. He winced, because of course, somehow he had said the wrong thing. "I mean, I guess it's just in my nature to overthink things," he amended, hoping Oliver would hear the unsaid apology in his words. His 'sorry for upsetting you even though I can't tell what's wrong or why'. "You know, CSI and all. It's kind of my job." Barry tried for an awkward laugh at the end, but Oliver only responded with a tight smile, more polite than anything else.

"I guess," was all he said. There was silence for several moments before Oliver cleared his throat. "I should be getting back to my sister."

"Yes, yes, of course," Barry agreed, nodding vigorously. "Yeah, um, go. Sorry for, uh, keeping you."

"It was nothing," Oliver said as he turned, and Barry wasn't sure if that was supposed to be rude or reassuring. He decided to take it as if it had been reassuring. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Oh, it-" Barry started to say, but by the time he'd gotten the first word out, Oliver was across the precinct with an arm around his younger sister. "-wasn't mine," he finished, staring after the man. Barry sighed, reaching toward the counter for his coffee- and accidentally knocking it with his too-long fingers, sending it toppling sideways and spilling across the counter and onto the floor. He sighed again, louder this time, and hung his head, defeated. "Damn it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry's figuring some things out, both about the vigilante and a dangerous new case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i kinda skipped over s2e2 but that's because I couldn't really fit Barry in anywhere so i just thought fuck it. but its s2e3 time babey!!

"Barry, when are you coming back to visit?"

Barry bit his lip, adjusting his phone so that it was sandwiched between his ear and his shoulder as he shuffled through some paperwork on his desk. "I don't know, Iris, things at the station are pretty hectic. I've been taking naps in between crime scenes, there's so many."

He heard Iris sigh, loudly. "And who could've predicted that?" she hummed. 

"You, you, I know," Barry muttered, accidentally knocking a folder off the desk. He watched in defeat as some of the papers flew out, settling across the floor. "Shit." Bending over to pick it up, he added, "I know you don't think this move was good for me, but Iris, it's barely been a month. Give me some time to adjust, okay? Give it a few months yet."

"It's Starling City. It's always been a crime hotspot, now it's just..." 

"Doubled? Tripled? Quintupled?" Barry offered. "Yeah, tell me about it."

There was a slight pause on the other end, like Iris was thinking. "Just- promise me you'll stay safe. I'm worried about you, you know."

Barry found a small smile working its way onto his face. "You're my best friend, you're supposed to worry."

"_Barry_."

"Fine, alright," he relented, finally grabbing his phone with his hand as he sat back in his desk, the folder and its contents successfully retrieved from the floor. "I promise I'll stay out of trouble. To the best of my ability."

Iris sighed. "I guess that's as good as I'm gonna get from you."

"Yeah," Barry said. "Hey, if I can't come back any time soon, why don't you come stay at my place for a bit? Maybe in a few weeks, or something. Hopefully I'll be home enough to make it worth the trip."

"I'll think about it," was the response, but Barry could hear the smile in Iris' voice. "Alright, I'll let you get back to work, but I'm gonna hold you to that offer, you know."

"I'm counting on it," said Barry. "Bye, Iris."

"Bye, Bar," she said, and then there was silence. 

Barry shut his phone off and set it on his desk before going back to look at the papers he had in front of him. There were so many crimes happening in this city, it didn't seem like they'd end. Every time he closed his eyes, someone new was getting robbed, or jumped, or murdered. He felt a little in over his head, but he wasn't about to tell Iris that. It was to early to let her say 'I told you so'. Even though she wouldn't be entirely wrong if she _did_ say it.

"So was that a girlfriend?" Barry startled at the voice, pressing a hand to his chest as he turned to see Pike standing at the door with a folder in his hand. 

"Oh, uh, no sir," Barry said, feeling his face start to heat up. "Just a friend. Well, best friend. Technically sister. Adopted."

Pike blinked at him for a moment, before shaking his head as if to dismiss his awkwardness. "Right. Well," he said, making his way over to Barry's desk, "This is the last round of paperwork, and then you're officially our employee for the foreseeable future. I know it's been a mess, getting this all done. It usually doesn't take this long."

"Right, yeah, what with all the... crime happening." Barry internally winced at his words. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "So uh, I'll have this to you by tonight, then."

"Good," said Pike. "Just put them in my office when you're done. I'll be out this evening but I'll leave it unlocked."

"Do you want me to lock it after?" Barry asked.

"If you would, yes," Pike answered. "Bye." And then he was gone.

Barry looked after him for a moment before opening the folder of paperwork. It was only a couple of pages, but it was just another task on his already high pile of work. He sighed. This was going to be a long day.

* * * * *

The last week had been exciting enough, regarding news on the vigilante. The Chinese Triad had been interfering in medicine transports to hospitals in the Glades, and while the SCPD was credited with bringing in a high-ranking player, word on the street was that the vigilante was involved. Barry printed out the news article and tacked it to his board, the separate one he'd made for the vigilante. This was proof that the vigilante had changed, it had to be. The hoods could have been an outlier, but two times so close together was no coincidence. Not only was the vigilante refusing to kill, but he was switching targets. It wasn't about businessmen anymore, it was about the people. And maybe it always had been, but now it was more direct. 

This was about helping the little man now, instead of taking down the big guy. 

Unfortunately for the little man, there were also a lot more criminals on the loose. Which meant more work for the vigilante, and for Barry.

When Barry was called to the next crime scene, Pike had warned him on the phone that it was gruesome. But god, Barry hadn't been prepared.

"Oh God," was all Barry could think to say, staring up at the victim. He could feel bile rising in the back of his throat, but he forced himself to swallow it down. 

"Oh God," Detective Wilson said in solemn agreement. "Allen, I know this is shocking, but are you with us?"

Barry tore his eyes away from the sight in front of him, but the sick feeling in his stomach didn't go away. "Yeah," he said weakly, before clearing his throat and starting again. "Yeah, I'm here. Just... can someone please close her eyes?"

Wilson looked like he might be sick as well, but he nodded and pulled his sleeve over his hand, reaching up to gently close the girl's eyes. 

Steeling himself, Barry hauled his kit over toward the body and got to work. Wilson stayed beside him, watching as he took pictures and collected evidence. "This isn't a new killer, is it?" Barry asked. "I've seen something like this before."

"Barton Mathis," Wilson confirmed. "Called the Dollmaker- you can guess why." Barry didn't need to guess. The girl- the body of the girl- was positioned on a life-size doll stand, her arms curled out as if she were a dancer. She wore a laced white dress and her hair was brushed neatly. She would almost look serene if it weren't for the hardened chemical protruding from her mouth, clearly being the thing to have killed her. It looked like some sort of flexible polymer. "He had a killing spree a few years ago, got caught and sent to Iron Heights. Only, there was a breakout after the quake. Guess who was among the escapees."

"So this isn't a copycat," Barry gathered. 

"No. I don't believe in coincidences, not like this." 

"So I'm not looking for an identity for the killer, I'm looking for a location," Barry thought aloud. "That's gonna be hard." He turned to Wilson. "I'm gonna need someone to help look at CCTV footage, as much as we can get, from anywhere close to Iron Heights the night of the breakout. Right now we focus on finding Mathis, see if we can get a lead on where he went. Even a general direction is better than nothing. If you find anything, follow that trail. I want you to do the same thing for this area, starting around..." Barry reached up and moved a few fingers on the girl's hand, rotated her wrist a few times. "twelve hours ago. Rigor mortis isn't too bad yet, which means she hasn't been here too long. I'll research anywhere this polymer is available and try to figure out where he's getting it, and how. It could be a lead."

"Got it," Wilson said, scribbling something down on his sketchpad before hustling away to pull out his phone. 

Barry continued to work, slipping a little into his head to escape the horror in front of him. He couldn't imagine how this girl had felt. Had it been long? Had she known what was happening? Had she been dressed up like this before or after she'd been killed? 

As sickening as it was, Barry was glad that he was a CSI. He couldn't imagine being the one to tell this girl's parents what had happened to her. 

"Lucas, what's going on here?" a familiar voice drifted through the buzzing chatter, and Barry shot a glance over his shoulder to see Quentin Lance approaching, Wilson at his side. "This is my beat. Why did Pike wave me off of this?"

"Quentin, it's under control," Wilson assured him, though Barry knew he was lying through his teeth. You could feel the unease in the air. 

"What's under control?" Lance asked, before coming to a screeching halt in front of the body. Barry dutifully pretended that he couldn't hear their conversation, and got out his fingerprint kit. "Barton Mathis."

"That seems to be what the MO indicates," Wilson agreed. 

"He's been doing consecutive life sentences in Iron Heights."

"Not anymore," Wilson said gently. "The quake split open a section of Iron Heights. Mathis was one of the escapees. The brass wanted to avoid a panic so they're keeping it quiet."

"They're keeping it quiet from me too?" Lance asked.

"Come on, Pike knows what happened to you last time. He got in your head."

"Yeah, and I caught him," Lance argued. "Nobody on this force knows Mathis better than me."

"I've got all your notes and files. Pike's orders. Quentin, if you go anywhere near this he'll have you arrested for obstruction."

The conversation ended then, but Barry heard the angry sigh coming from who presumed was Lance. He heard the footsteps of the older man as he approached the body, stopping to stare up at it. Standing up from his crouch, Barry stepped back to look between the former detective and the dead girl. 

He wasn't sure if he liked the look in Lance's eyes.

* * * * *

Barry was sitting in his office, pouring over dozens and dozens of police reports, files, articles, anything even remotely related to Barton Mathis. He had fifteen tabs open on his computer, all of them related to the case. The last time that he'd been out, Mathis had set a pattern of one kill every three days. That gave Barry and the rest of the force two days before he struck again. Probably. Barry didn't want to risk that he might have changed. He _couldn't_ risk it, because people's lives were at stake.

"Hey." Barry glanced up from his work, only half surprised to find Quentin Lance approaching him with a bag from Big Belly Burger.

"What's that?" Barry asked, turning back to his screen. He had the girl's prints running through the system in hopes of getting an ID. The sooner they could figure out who the victim was, the sooner they could start comparing this case with the ones from six years ago. Guys like Mathis usually had a type, and none of his victims had commonalities in their physical appearance, so Barry thought that it must be something else, like a habit- shopping at a certain store, maybe mutual friends, a food choice. It could be anything. 

"Dinner," Lance announced, setting on top of a stack of folders. "Late dinner. You haven't left your office since you got here. You need to eat. Hope you're not vegetarian, I got you a cheeseburger."

Barry eyed the officer, suspicious. "I'll pay you back," he offered, reaching for his wallet and pulling out a 5 to give to Lance. The former detective waved it off.

"It's on me."

Barry inhaled sharply, finally turning away from his desk to look, really look, at Lance. "What are you doing?"

Lance blinked. "Bringing you a late dinner, I said-"

"Lance, I promise I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I heard what Detective Wilson said," Barry warned. "You can't go anywhere near this case, you'll lose your job. You could go to _jail_. I'm not going to be a part of that."

"I'm not buying you out, Allen," Lance hissed, his voice dropping to a whisper. 

"Then tell me what your goal is."

Lance looked at his, apprehension clear in his eyes. He cleared his throat, turned to look back at the empty doorway, and let out a long sigh. "I can't stop thinking about it," he said. "This case. I know Pike doesn't want me on it, but... I can't just sit here and do _nothing_. Not while that psycho is out there, looking for his next victim. Not while the force is stretched so thin, they won't even let the public know what's going on because they don't think they'll be able to handle it. Not while I'm the best chance we've got at catching him."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Barry grumbled, before running his hands down his face. "Look. I'm doing everything I can, and so is the rest of the force. The most you can do for right now, and I'm sorry because I know you don't want to hear this, is let the others handle it. I know your job might look trivial next to the idea of someone's life, but Lance, this force needs you. You being here proves that. You don't give up. This city needs that right now, and you can still help. Just- just not with this, I'm sorry."

"Then what can I do?" Lance asked angrily. "Nobody will tell me anything about this case, and I sure as hell can't find anything out from the news!"

"I don't know," Barry admitted. "But from what I've heard, you're a hell of a detective. You'll figure something out."

Lance snorted, humorless. "I got demoted."

"That doesn't mean you ever stopped being a detective."

"What does that mean?"

Barry shrugged, turning back to his work. "I don't know, but it sounded good in my head. And before you go, take the 5. I'm not letting you pay for my dinner."

* * * * *

Lance was working with The Hood.

Barry didn't believe in coincidences, and this was too great to ignore. First, Lance had tried to pull that dinner-buying trick last night; admittedly, that didn't have much to do with The Hood, but it certainly was the catalyst, Barry thought. Because Barton Mathis' old lawyer ended up at the hospital for an arrow wound to the shoulder, which Barry found out when he tried to contact him, and was also conveniently forgetting to mention to Pike. Not to mention the fact that Lance had been arrested after calling in a spotting of Mathis. He wouldn't give up any details about how he'd found him, but there were arrows found near the crime scene. Green arrows. 

Barry was scared and excited at the same time. Scared for Lance, because not only was his job in jeopardy, but so was his life. Excited, because he now had almost a surefire connection to The Hood, which had been a deciding factor in his move to Starling City in the first place.

And as huge as that was, it really really was, Barry couldn't focus on that right now. Because Mathis had killed another girl two days ago, and time was almost up. And Barry was barely closer to catching him than he'd been before.

He couldn't figure out a damn connection between victims.

Suddenly, Lucas Wilson was running into his office like someone was chasing him. "Lance is gone," he gasped.

Barry, startled, said, "Huh?"

"Mathis took him. And his daughter Laurel."

"Shit," Barry said, turning to his computer. "Where?"

"Precinct parking garage. He shot an officer, set off the alarms."

"Dumb move on his part," Barry quipped, trying to ignore his racing heart and sweaty palms. He pulled up CCTV for the garage. "When?"

"It's hardly been two minutes since shots fired."

"That's good, we can catch him," Barry said. He rewound the footage, his eyes picking apart the image. "There!" he said, after barely a moment, pausing the video. "That van. Metamorpho Chemical. Left the garage about two minutes ago."

"That's gotta be him," Wilson said.

"Go tell Pike," Barry said, standing up. 

"Where are you going?" Wilson asked, Barry already scrambling for his kit.

"We can't risk him getting away. I'm coming with you. If he runs and you don't see him, I'm your best bet at finding him fast."

Wilson barely hesitated before giving him a nod, and the two were off.

* * * * *

By the time the police had gotten there, everything was over. Laurel and Lance were both alive, Mathis was dead, and there were two arrows in each of his shoulders. 

He didn't die from the arrows.

Mathis had died from a wound in the center of his chest, from what Barry could only guess what some type of baton- the weapon had been removed, but the mark was still there. It wasn't The Hood's MO to used batons, or anything other than arrows, really. Not to mention his recent aversion to killing criminals. 

This meant either two things: one, that The Hood was working with someone else. Or two, there was a new player in town. One that Barry knew nothing about.

And he'd add that to his board, but later. Right now, there was something more important at hand. 

"How's Laurel?" he asked, approaching Lance's desk. The man looked up at him, and Barry thought that he looked tired. God knows he'd been through enough the past few days.

"She needs time," he admitted quietly. "But she's alive. She's safe. That's all I can ask for."

"I'm glad," Barry told him. He shuffled his feet, not sure how to continue. "Can I uh, can I talk to you?"

Lance looked up at him. "You are talking to me."

Barry flushed, clearing his throat. "Oh, I know. I meant, maybe, can I talk to you in a place that's not here." Lance raised an eyebrow, but he didn't say no. Barry took it as an invitation. "Maybe Big Belly Burger?"

Lance looked skeptical, but slowly he nodded. "I get off in twenty."

"Alright!" Barry said, and maybe he sounded a bit too excited because Lance raised an eyebrow. "Um. Sorry. I can meet you there?"

Lance agreed, so twenty minutes and a short commute later the two men were sat at a table in the back of Big Belly Burger. Barry was digging into some fries, and Lance was gnawing on the straw to his diet coke. 

"So what's this about?" Lance asked. "I'm assuming it's not just a casual dinner between friends."

"Are we friends?" Barry asked, taken aback, before cowing at the unamused look Lance gave him in return. "Right. Um, so. I know you're working with The Hood." Lance immediately stiffened, his expression darkening, and Barry backtracked. "Well, I mean- I mean I don't actually _know_, but I'm suspecting it, even though your reaction kind of just confirmed it."

"What do you want?" Lance snarled. "Money? A good work with Pike? I don't know if it'll mean much coming from me."

Barry blanched. "Wait do- do you think I'm blackmailing you? Do you think I'm here to blackmail you?" When Lance just glared at him, Barry took in a deep breath, his lungs feeling tight with anxiety. "Oh god, no, I would never. I'm not going to tell anyone, I promise. You have my word, really."

"Then tell me what your goal is," Lance huffed, parroting Barry's words from the other day. 

"Um." Barry blinked. "Honestly, I don't know. I didn't think I'd get this far." Lance glared at him, clearly annoyed, so Barry tried again. "Look, I just, uh, I think he's maybe this city's best chance right now. I know a lot of people don't share that sentiment, but I believe it, honest to god I do. So I just- can you give him a message for me?"

Lance's eyebrows raised. "A message?"

"Yeah. A message." Barry cleared his throat. "I don't know how he works, or who he lets into his crew or team or whatever-" Lance looked like he was about to object, but Barry barreled on: "I mean, he's gotta have a team, come on. He can't be doing this all by himself, and- and I'm getting off track. But what I'm trying to say is, if he ever needs a CSI, well. He can have me." 

"Why are you so obsessed with The Arrow?"

Barry repeated, "The Arrow?"

Quentin rolled his eyes. "It's what he likes to be called, apparently. Better than The Hood, I guess. Now answer my question."

"Oh, right. Well, I guess it's the same reason _you're_ helping him."

"And what's that, Allen?"

Barry didn't even falter when he looked Lance in the eye as he answered. "I believe in him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD OKAY so the story is developing!!!! Also it took me so long to update so sorry!!! I got really busy with school and I got an internship so that just added to my workload, but now all schools are online and nobody can leave the house so I've got a shit ton of free time.  
But yeah, sorry Barry and Oliver don't interact this chapter! Lance and Barry are developing a friendship though, and tbh I can't wait to write more of them, I love their dynamic. But now that we're starting to get into things a little more, Oliver and Barry are gonna start interacting more. So look forward to that!! Thanks for reading ahh

**Author's Note:**

> this one is a bit short but i promise that the future chapters will be longer!


End file.
